Five Men Robert Hogan Never Kissed, And One He Did
by Toussaint
Summary: Five incidents that never happened in the life of Robert Hogan, and one that did. Slash.


**Group Captain James Roberts**

They fuck after the Battle of London, when they are both jittering with adrenaline and shock. All Hogan can smell with his nose buried in the crook of Robbie's neck is stale sweat and smoke.

Fumbling, desperate, they clutch each other against the hastily locked door of their shared bunkroom. Hogan hooks an ankle over Robbie's legs to pull him as tight as he can, and with shaking fingers undoes the buttons of his trousers.

Neither lasts. Robbie whines and pushes hard into Hogan's hand, then he's pulsing hot and slick. He drops his head to Hogan's chest with a shudder and clenches his fingers.

Hogan gives a startled yelp and throws his head back as he finishes, banging it on the doorjamb. He's too dazed to notice.

Legs tangled together, chests heaving, they stay where they are until Hogan doesn't think his legs will hold him anymore. He pushes Robbie off—gently—and together they stumble to the bunk. Then they sleep for five hours on Robbie's bunk, because Hogan doesn't think he can make it up to his own.

And if they can't quite bring themselves to look one another in the eye while scrambling for reveille the next morning—well, both being officers and gentlemen, neither mentions it.

**Ivan Kinchloe**

Hogan tells himself it's because there's no way Kinch can get out and pick up a local girl. That's why, once in a blue moon, he finds himself in the tunnel with the lights out, kissing Kinch for all he's worth.

That has to be it. It can't be because Kinch tastes of coffee and cigarettes, or because he smells of musk, earth, and the moist darkness of the tunnel. Or because his hands are bigger than Hogan's and can caress his entire body with such surety. It certainly isn't because Hogan has to crane his neck to kiss him, or because when he does Kinch's mustache scrapes his upper lip and sends a shiver down his spine.

It's not because in the darkness of the tunnel Hogan can cling to Kinch and rely on Kinch's solidity to hold him up, in exactly the same way he relies on Kinch to support him all the rest of time. Kinch's shoulders are strong enough to hold them both up for a little while, and it's a bigger relief than Hogan can say to just let go.

But that isn't why Hogan curls his fingers tightly into them as Kinch's muffled groan of completion tips him over the edge.

That can't be it at all.

**Andrew Carter**

The summer night is balmy, not too hot—perfect for a tryst by the train tracks. Carter's mouth is sweet and softly insistent, and his hands reach out to tentatively touch Hogan.

The chill of detonation wire brushing against his skin makes Hogan pull back with a sigh. "Back to work," he whispers, pressing a regretful kiss to Carter's temple.

Carter's crestfallen expression nearly breaks Hogan's heart, but they have a job to do.

**Louis LeBeau  
**  
"_Vive la France_!" LeBeau calls, softly but fervently, as Tiger and Marya drive away.

Hogan watches them go with mixed feelings. Marya's departure is a relief, no question there, but Tiger… He wishes he could have spent more time getting to know her _without_ the constant memory of her Gestapo interrogation hanging over their heads. Not that she hadn't seemed perfectly willing to kiss, to touch—quite willing, in fact, despite the bruises and the torn clothes.

It is Hogan who couldn't bring himself to go any further. He doesn't know if the Gestapo men took advantage of her; he couldn't ask. If Tiger was a man, the thought would never have entered his mind. But every mark on her slender shoulders is a reminder that no matter how brave, how good she is at what she does, espionage is twice as dangerous for a woman as for a man. And Hogan knows that if he and Tiger spend any more time together, he is going to bring it up, and she'll get mad at him. So it's best that they don't, really. Really.

He doesn't realize he's staring after the car until LeBeau lays a hand on his arm. "Come on, _mon colonel_, let's go back to the hotel."

Once they are in the room, LeBeau ushers him to the sinfully plush sofa and pours two glasses of wine. For a while they sit in companionable silence, sipping expensive champagne.

"You know," Hogan finally says. "Eventually we're going to have to spring Klink from jail."

LeBeau grimaces. "Please, Colonel, not tonight. We're in Paris! Let's enjoy it."

"I don't know if I'm up to going out tonight." Hogan stares into his glass, admiring the way the light makes his champagne glow.

With a smile, LeBeau takes the glass from him and sets it on the coffee table. "We don't have to go out to have a good time," he murmurs, and kisses Hogan softly on the lips.

This is too good an opportunity to pass up, so Hogan takes what is offered and parts his lips invitingly. The kiss is sweet and passionate. Warmth sparks in Hogan's belly, and he reaches up to cup LeBeau's jaw.

When they part, Hogan smiles slyly. "Is this what you meant when you told Marya that all three of us can be friends?"

LeBeau doesn't say anything, but he has the grace to blush before kissing Hogan once more.

**Peter Newkirk**

The mission went well, after a minor kerfuffle with a _hofbrau _owner/Gestapo agent that he and Newkirk were able to take care of pretty quickly. And, better than that, it ended with two pretty _frauleins _in an empty bar. All in all, a good night.

At some point both girlsmake their excuses and go, leaving Newkirk and Hogan sitting in together in the empty _hofbrau_. Newkirk is clearly a little tipsy, if the way he keeps laughing and leaning on Hogan's arm is any indicator. He's telling a story or a joke or something, but Hogan isn't really paying attention to what he's saying so much as the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

Hogan's so busy watching Newkirk's eyes that he is taken by surprise when Newkirk leans up and plants a warm, affectionate kiss on his cheek. "Best date I've ever had," he drawls, and slips Hogan's arm around his shoulder to curl more fully against his side in the booth.

Maybe Hogan's had a few too many himself. "Same here," he agrees, and bends to kiss the top of Newkirk's head.

**Colonel Wilhelm Klink**

The night before the Allies arrive to liberate Stalag 13, Klink and Hogan have sex on the couch in the _kommandantur_.

Hogan doesn't know what comes over him. One moment he's trying to figure out how to warn Klink of what's coming without actually warning him and the next his hands are fisted in Klink's uniform jacket and he's kissing the man as though his very life depends on it.

When they part, Klink stares at him, eyes wide and dazed. Just as Hogan gets ready to let go and run for his life (maybe he can make it to the tunnel), Klink does the unthinkable and kisses him in return.

One of the things a good espionage agent prides himself on is the ability to control his emotions, and Hogan is one of the best. But not tonight. Feelings he refuses to name yank him under like a riptide. Maybe it could be called catharsis, but Hogan doubts it's anything that healthy.

The sex is brutal and probably resembles a fight more than the union of two bodies. There are bruises already showing on Klink's throat and hips from Hogan's lips, teeth, and hands. For once in his life Klink gives as good as he gets. His grip on Hogan is surprisingly strong.

Hogan finishes violently, almost angrily. He twists his hand hard as he does, and beneath him Klink bucks hard and follows. Afterward he rests with his head on Klink's chest, trying very hard not to sob—for breath, he tells himself.

Klink touches his shoulder lightly, cautiously. "Hogan—" he begins.

"Quiet." Hogan swallows and adjusts his tone to something gentler. "Please." Perhaps he makes it too gentle. To his own ears it almost sounds like he's begging.

Klink manages to keep silent until they are both on their feet, uniforms straightened. Then he stares at Hogan with a confused expression that is so utterly familiar it makes Hogan's throat tighten. "Hogan, what…why…" He struggles visibly to put what just happened into words.

Just as visibly, he gives up. "It's after nine o'clock. You should be in the barracks."

"Yeah." Stiffly, with inexplicable reluctance, Hogan tugs his jacket into place and walks away slowly.

At the door he turns half around and looks at Klink, who is watching him with the same expression he gets when denied a promotion.

"See you in the morning," Hogan says. "Good night, Kommandant."


End file.
